


Why?

by UdSoul



Series: Assholes in love [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Darkish Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Odin's A+ Parenting, Romance, Tony-centric, free interpretation of the movie plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:45:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8497702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UdSoul/pseuds/UdSoul
Summary: In the beginning, it was rather dull, but when the God gave up, and didn’t escape while he, Capsicle and Pikachu, were rehearsing a Shakspearian comedy in the park, Stark began to wonder.





	

Does it ever occur to you how often people misjudge – situations, power, feelings, family, friends, intentions, other people?

Take for example, Tony Stark.

The world attempted to categorize him for ages. He was called prodigy, businessman, thief, playboy, alcoholic, genius, Merchant of death, philanthropist, and most recently Iron man, the hero. Tony's inner circle could add to this list titles like friend, best friend and lover. The ones who hated him would say something along the lines of selfish, arrogant and heartless.

But no matter the ties, they all presumed.

The polished Sunday PR version explained that Tony took drugs, drank himself to stupor, insulted people, was reckless and, on many occasions downright suicidal because his father never paid enough attention to him. He was deeply scarred by that fact. Stark created a wall between himself and society to protect his fragile soul. He did not want to be hurt any more.

Then Afghanistan happened and suddenly Tony became a martyr. The good and brave man that carved himself from Iron and fought evil with his own bare hands, because, apparently, the world could not handle its dirt alone. Moreover, they added some drama to the character by telling stories of a long-suffering soul which lost so much in those caves that life became meaningless and it had to build itself a new one; and what a glorious purpose it was – make the world a safer place. They were clapping standing when Iron man showed up. He was a hero. The better part of the world believed so, anyway.

The other part read funny yellow papers which said that Stark was spoiled, rich brat. He did not have good intentions; his only goal was to make money and then pour it down the drain. Tony was not a hero; he was a heartless crook and the only thing Iron man “protected” were “Stark Industries.” That was the harsh truth according to them, and people speculated, argued, participates in debates and guessed, trying to find the right label for the infamous billionaire.

As it often happens, no one actually tried to ask Tony about all of this. Nobody really cared what impact his father truly had on him; or did he grieve the death of his father figure? Did his nightmares drive him mad? Why he was drinking exactly? Why he hated taking things from other people’s hands? What happened in Afghanistan? Why he told everybody he was Iron man? What he intended to do with the mess his life become?

Why the hell he insisted to be called Tony?

Necessary questions for the one who is really interested in the personality of another, but, alas, nobody close to Tony or otherwise was invested enough to be curious or see past his iron mask.

But if they were, Anthony would say that in all honesty Howard was not a big issue. He sucked as a father, but that was all to it.

Tony was raised in a wealthy family and literally had access to anything his heart desired. He did not have much time or wish to dwell on his relationship with a man who at one point was engaged in an intercourse with his mother and then cut himself out of his life. Sure, it would have been nice to hear some praise from Howard but he lived fine without it for the best part of his life and continued to do so after his death. The strongest emotion he could muster towards his so-called father was mild annoyance when papers compared their work. Because, obviously, Tony was incomparable.

The “father” that he missed, however, was the same greedy-old-fuckhead that tried to kill him.

Stark thought that after his mother, who left him, he was incapable of feeling a bitter taste of betrayal, as since then Tony deemed himself above blind trust and devotion in any relationship.

He was wrong of course, because years latter Obadiah sold Tony and it stung more than it should. Stark grieved him long and till this day was reluctant to let go the affection he felt for the man, despite him being a treacherous scum bag.

It was complicated, twisted, wrong and fuelled his nightmares.

During those long, long nights when he woke up screaming and bleeding, he could not shake the feeling of loss and his mother's voice rang for days in his ears: “You're not worth it, Anthony. I'm sorry.”

It drove him mad.

However, when he calmed down enough to think properly, he figured it could be worse. He could be beaten, drown, starved, burned and cut again; fighting for survival in a hot, damp cave; planning to make himself into a weapon and falling, falling, falling to the despair with nobody to catch him.

Yeah, life was great now. He built himself an armour; killed everybody that was responsible and showed the world the Iron man.

Dared it to fuck with him again and nobody was willing. Yes, life was perfect.  

“Tony, you're drinking again!”

_Yes, he was. And?_

“The tower alight. I'm celebrating.”

 “With how many bottles exactly?”

He looked around and smiled sheepishly.

“Two?”

Her exasperated sign amused him. Tony liked Pepper. He truly did. She reminded him of a younger sister; sweet and caring, but he could not let her in even if he tried. How he could tell her that he drunk because life was dull? Soo slow, so stupid. His brain was running with a speed of light, creating and destroying Universes every other second. People, countries, world – irritated him. He wanted out. He needed something stimulating. Tony craved chaos and destruction and it scared him. So, he drank. It made him more placid, fogged his dangerous mind. For an hour or two Stark did not want to wipe the Earth from its existence. It was good. Safe. That was the truth and the deception sounded like: “Come on, Pep, lately nights were harder for me than usual. I need a break.”

She sighed again and raised her hands in surrender.

“You are such a good man Tony. I hate seeing you like this.”

“It's nothing. I promise.” She smiled, unconvinced. Tony smirked back, thinking how wrong Pepper was. He wasn't evil per se. He was just as far from good as they come.

“Sir, agent from S.H.I.E.L.D is asking permission to enter.”

“I'm busy, Jarvis.”

“He insists, sir.”

“Jarv…”

“It would appear that Tesseract is involved, sir.”

“Then what are you waiting for, Jarv?”

“Your command, sir.”

“When did I program sass in you?”

“You didn't, sir. Your guest, sir.”

The agent, Phil Coulson, came bearing gifts and tales of a God and a cube that opens portals to other dimensions and make flying monkey's out of agents by touch. It's not to say they weren't already, but it seems that Fury did not appreciate claims on his west witch’s throne. Thus, S.H.I.E.L.D declared war.

Nothing surprising really, and it would not catch Tony's attention for more than a half second if not for the look on the God's face. It screamed torture. Moreover, Stark was not ready to share his playground. So, the sexy alien had to go.

In the beginning, it was rather dull, but when the God gave up, and didn’t escape while he, Capsicle and Pikachu, were rehearsing a Shakspearian comedy in the park, Stark began to wonder.

He watched the God closely, listened to his false declares and speeches, laughed when Natasha thought he tricked him. Tony had a pretty good idea where it was all heading, but kept his silence.

Loki was entertaining and you should never underestimate a bored man in his search of amusement.

When Clint barged in, eyes eerie blue, and blew up half of the Helicarrie, Stark only smiled, calmly repairing what needed to be repaired and preparing himself for a face down. The arrogance that son-of-a-bitch had was cosmic. It was his tower for fucks sake. Loki desperately needed a lesson in humility and Stark was happy to give one.

While flying through open sky Tony thought about aliens that deemed themselves Gods and then fell from the hands of a mortal. It seemed hilarious how in the end power meant nothing. There always would be someone more grand than you. The only question was when you'd meet them.

He stepped out of his suit. Nonchalantly strolled through his penthouse and noticed for a hundredth time how good Loki looked, madness worn, like an accessory.

It was not fair that they met like this. Tony could recognise a great mind when he saw one. They could have been friends, like him and Brucy already were. There were so much to know, to discover about the God. He could swear that under all this “kneel business” was hidden a notice worthy personality. And, fine, if Loki was so hell bent on kneeling Tony could do that say in the private confines of his bedroom willingly. At any time, actually.

But no, the God was talking about armies, galaxies and conquer, the boring stuff. It sounded so fake, Tony wanted to gag.

Loki, per Thor, was one of the most powerful mages in the Universe. On top of that, he was a war strategist and a diplomat; and, let's not forget, he was a God of tricks and lies capable of shape shifting. If he wanted to rule this planet or any other planet for that matter with his capabilities, there shouldn't be a war.

So why?

Why he is here and babbling about things he clearly did not believe in? Why he is repeating the same words like a parrot? Why was he hooked up with an alien army? Why did he need an army in a first place? Why he is losing? Why? Why? Why?

“Why?” Tony asked him tired of hearing the same phrases as if he was listening to a broken record. Aliens did not interest him much. Avengers and destiny of Earth's population even less so. He was captured by Loki. Stark longed to know how that brain worked and, as per usual, he took what he wanted. His boldness was rewarded with a glimpse into Loki's brilliant mind which was momently confused by his question but then quickly caught on.

“It's not your concern, mortal,” said the God, sounding tired and dismissive, eyes briefly flickering from bluish-grey to vivid green.

 _Oh, that's, at least partly, why,_ Tony thought and shrugged.

“Fair enough but if you ever feel like sharing you know where to find me.”

“That I do,” Loki said moving closer. “You'll be right by my side,” and touched Tony's chest with the sceptre, hitting the arc - reactor. It clanged and... nothing happened. It surprised Loki. It intrigued Tony. The God tried again, Stark stayed put purely out of scientific interest. It did not work. Tony smirked and mocked Loki's performance skills.

He flew straight out of his big penthouse window.

Falling was something that Tony was used to be it in his suit, in his endless nightmares or free fall, like now. It did not alarm him much. Jarvis would take care of it. Sometimes it was awesome to be so self-assured. So rather than waste his time on panicking, he spent his time thinking about more important matters, like why Thor hadn't noticed that Loki was possessed as well? Why was he controlled in a first place? And who had enough power to do that to him?

Questions, questions and not one fucking answer.

Of course, he could try and ask the God himself, but he had a suspicion that it will have the same result. On the plus side Loki's hands were pleasantly cool and sent shivers down his spine, on the minus side was his death. At this moment, it was not worth it.

Mark VII caught up with him and he flew up, blasting the God out of childish spite. Because how dare he threw Tony out of his own window? Insanely appealing or not, nobody dared to threaten Stark's life. And when he was more than ready to kick Loki's ass further, Capsicle called him off to defend the city.

“You're an alien, you’re an ugly alien, so not welcomed in New York” Tony sang while beating and blasting, and smashing chitauris' tech and troops. His heart painfully clenched when he saw all the potential that was ruined, but then he satisfied his curiosity by diving straight into one of the alien monsters and scanning it from the inside.

S.H.I.E.L.D. failed to stop a missile. Stark did it for them.

Tony saved the world. Tony regretted ever being near that portal.

The war was won. Loki was gagged, relief shining in the green depths, and sent back to Asgard, before Tony could speak to him. Stark added one more line to his long lists of regrets.

Avengers scattered around the world with a promise to assemble at a call. Life turned back to normal.

Tony acquired more nightmares and now at nights he was not tortured in a cave, but was floating through the vast space of a dead land where even silence was designed to torture. He coped by working himself into a stupor and drinking far more than he should.

Afghanistan all over again.

“Jarv, put some music on,” Tony slurred going through his seventh portion of whiskey.

“Sir, I strongly advice to cease your drinking.”

“Not my mother. Music.”

“Sir, levels of alcohol in your blood quickly approaching critical. If you will not stop it will result in your death.”

Tony was ready to snarl at his AI when smooth voice broke his concentration.

“You should listen to it, Stark.”

Maybe it was out of sheer arrogance, but probably, because of the horrible amount of alcohol in his blood, but Tony did not feel any ounce of fear upon hearing that voice only curiosity.

“Hey, reindeer games. What brought you here?”

“I felt like sharing.”

“Ah. So, it's not some kinda of revenge related visit?”

Loki smirked, but it lacked his famous madness. Now he looked mischievous and teasing, not murderous and psychotic. It suited him.

“Not yet.”

“Excellent. I need to be more sober for that.” Stark matched his smirk and gestured to the empty space next to him on the sofa. “You are free to join.”

God gave him a curt nod and moved forward, sitting gracefully and facing Tony. His armour was absent. He was dressed in black slacks and turquoise shirt. Loki looked less imposing and more relaxed like that.

“Wanna drink?”

“A drink would be nice, thank you.”

“Huh, such manners. I feel like a peasant now,” Tony snorted and poured a drink for a God. Loki accepted gracefully and drank it in one go.

“You actually are one, Stark.”

“Big words for a guy whose ass we kicked,” despite the banter Tony refilled the God's glass and received a grateful smile in return.

“It went per my design. Thus, your victory is counted as false.”

“Figured that, rock of ages. What bugs me thought is why?”

“I was raised as a prince, you know,” Loki stated taking only a sip from his drink this time. Tony nodded, having heard it from Thor. “But in reality, I have been just a war trophy brought to Asgard for king's convenience. He raised me as if his own, but when the truth came out he easily discarded and disowned me. In retrospect, I can see it was a logical decision. In the end, I am a mere monster whose birth right apparently was to die.”

Tony did not know how to react to that. His own family relationships were fucked if to put it mildly. Thus, he refrained from commenting on it altogether, despite the sympathy he felt for the God's pain. Instead, he decided to clarify something different.

“I don't understand, Loki. You look normal. I admit that you came as complete nutshell back there but you are no monster.”

The God's smirk only grew, making him look feral.

“See, I'm not Aesir, Stark. I was born as a Jotun who are long-time enemies of Asgard. I was taught to hate them. They are the lowliest scum of the Universe.”

“Whoa, ok, propaganda. I get it, but it does not make you automatically a monster.”

“Doesn't it now?” Loki said blue bleeding into his skin, until the white was swallowed completely and two ruby-red eyes were watching Stark in mild amusement.

Tony for his part, was openly gaping at him. Loki was smokin' hot in his human skin, but as a Smurf he was ethereal. Positively, mind-numbingly gorgeous.

“Fucking hell! You are...you are…”

“Monstrous.”

“Stunning! Can I touch you?”

“No. My skin will freeze yours.”

“I can wear gloves!”

Loki looked stupefied for a moment then laughed. The sound was melodious and deep. Tony decided that he liked it and want to hear it more.

“You are a strange creature.”

“Yes, people tend to say that. But on the topic of touching…”

“No,” Loki said his skin bleeding to human looking and Stark pouted at that, making the God chuckle. “Your curiosity will get you killed.”

“It's not important,” Tony whined, still feeling cheated. “Exploring is. And why do you care anyway?”

“If you die, Anthony. Who would listen to my tale?” The God teased.

“Don't...don't call me that, egoistical bastard. I am Tony.” Stark hissed.

“I will ask later, Tony.” Loki promised, another feeling entirely colouring his voice.

“But not today.” Stark warned, refusing to ponder on such silly things, as _love at first sight_ , despite the warn, gentle feeling curling in his chest.

“No, not today.” The God gracefully agreed, sympathy and concern plainly seen in his gaze.

“Ok to the tale.” Tony prompted, ignoring the vibe altogether. “So, you find out about your heritage and then what?”

“I did not take it well, as you can guess and fell from Bifrost into the void. You’ve seen it on the other side, I believe.”

Tony shuddered at the memory.

“How long?”

“I had no means of measuring time there, but it resulted in a slight madness, so I guess it was long enough. When I landed, however, I was met with worse horrors. The chitauri captured me and brought before their master. He questioned me and then tortured till my resolve shattered and my mind became partly his.”

Loki's speech faltered. He drew a breath, knuckles white, body shaking slightly.

It was hard for him to remember the embarrassment of being bent to another will. The pain, the loneliness, abandonment. It was even harder to give voice to those days when he was praying for death, when he was weak and miserable.

He shut his eyes, tears of anger and helplessness burning behind the eyelids, threatening to spill over and then he felt it, the gentle and comforting touch of one being in all the Nines who give a damn. Loki opened his eyes, focusing on warm brown and inhaled again, forcing himself to finish his tale.

“They sent me to Earth. Their master's power dimming with distance and I was able to make a diversion resulting in your victory. However, I must add you lot were such a simple-minded, badly functioning herd that I almost lost all hope. And I am glad that you finally caught on with me, Tony. Without you my plan would have failed. Thank you.” Loki said, mocking smirk in place.

Stark only rolled his eyes.

“Don't get cocky with me. I knew you were playing a losing card since the Thor accident. And you still did not tell why?”

“Isn't it obvious?”

“Besides, don't fuck with me? No, not really. You could have broken yourself out of it. I don't know what you are capable of but from what I heard its already insane amount of power. I, myself, was beaten and forced to do stuff I did not want to but blew the shit up anyway, and I'm only human. So why? Why did you lose to them? Where was your... Oh. OH! You didn't fall by accident, did you?”

Loki shook his head, pinning Tony with his gaze, and the longer Stark looked in those hurt, lost pools of anguish the angrier he became.

It was not right. Tony was not a stranger to the overall ignorance of people. They were never invested enough to actually listen. Anthony, himself, went through a lot of shit, but even his life becomes rather pleasant in the light of Loki's. For fuck's sake, the guy came to his enemy to pour his soul out. How fucked up was that?

And Loki wanted to kill himself.

That was unspeakable to think that this gorgeous being was so unappreciated he longed for death. So, Tony did what he was good at, he acted on an impulse.

In one fluid motion Stark straddled Loki and kissed him. The God was quick to answer practically purring into Tony's lips, gently nibbling at them, asking for entrance which he gladly granted. Their tongues met and intertwined, caressing each other. The kiss was long and slow. It was all about comfort and reassurance than lust that was also lurking under the surface. Tony figured it would be time for that. Now Loki's broken mind was more important.

“You are an idiot,” Tony whispered when they broke for air.

“Big words for a mortal who was defenestrated not a week ago.”

 “Shut up,” growled Stark kissing Loki again.

It was a glorious feeling; Loki's mouth on him; his hands tangled in soft, black hair; bodies moving in synch.

It was madness. It was surrender.

The warm feeling exploded in Stark’s chest, burning his blood to ash. His God's skin tasted of chaos and destruction. His body smelt of war and death. He was made of everything Stark wanted and yearned for.

It was bittersweet. It was unavoidable; and, suddenly, Tony Stark was not afraid any more.


End file.
